


get you out my mind

by notsugarandspice



Series: in every lifetime [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, M/M, Meet-Cute, Reddie, Sexuality Crisis, Skater! Bill, Skater! Eddie, Stan and Richie are in private school, adolescent stress, dumbass flirting, playing nurse, pretty Cali life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsugarandspice/pseuds/notsugarandspice
Summary: The guy smiles back, and his teeth are a stark contrast to the caramel tan. “What are you reading?”“Um,” the name of the book flies right out of Richie’s head, along with his ability to coherently speak, apparently, “Lord of the Flies.”The boy comes closer and puts the board down, balancing on it as he talks. “School? I think I read that Junior year or something.”or, Richie decides to go to the beach for some peace and finds something else entirely





	1. Chapter 1

Richie has always been one to get easily fascinated, and there were plenty of things around him to draw interest from, but that’s not what he wants right now. In fact, he’s trying to avoid any and all compelling things, trying not to fall into that daydreamy headspace. He came here to be alone, do his work and that’s about it.

He’s breathing the fresh air coming from the ocean, fascinated with how the dim sunlight glistens on the waves. There are plenty of surfers around, barefoot with nothing but swim trunks on, giggly and tan. And then there’s….Richie. Pale, freckly, still dressed in his uniform: blue polo and khakis, wishing he had a pack of cigarettes with him. Wishing he could  _actually_ smoke here.

Richie looks over to the side where people are skating on manmade hills, falling, giggling, happy. Richie doesn’t  _really_ have a reason to be upset or depressed over anything, but like most things, he doesn’t have a good excuse. That’s just the state he’s in.

The school has been difficult, exams have been kicking his ass, and he  _still_ doesn’t want to go to college even though he’s already been accepted to UCLA preemptively. But he still has a year of torture to endure. He’s been trying to be a good son, he’s been trying to make his parents proud. He just hopes it pays off.

There’s a particularly fascinating red-haired guy to Richie’s right side, one who seems to fall off too frequently for his own good. He laughs it off instantly, and he looks so young it’s painful because Richie can tell he’s definitely a high schooler and  _Richie_ doesn’t feel like one. He already feels shaped to be an adult, what with all the private school pressure and additional tutoring, endless soccer practice that recently ended, and that little voice in his head that always reminds him that he’s the only kid and he has an example of two hard-working parents who give him everything he wants. So there’s that.

The red-haired guy falls again after attempting some sort of a trick on the bend and starts whooping someone from the ground, someone who’s running from the parking lot. Richie should  _really_ be reading  _Lord of the Flies_ but his eyes fall on that boy who gets on the black board mid-run, skating down the slope smoothly, hangs on the top of the tall hill for several agonizing seconds and swoops back down with more grace that should be possible in this sort of thing, his lower body seemingly disconnected from the rest. Richie keeps watching the way his overgrown sandy hair flops from the wind and the corner of his mouth lifts when he notices knee socks with little red pills on them.

Richie looks away because he doesn’t want to stare - he could never skate, no matter how much he wanted - too tall and uncoordinated, and honestly no one to skate with even if he didn’t care about falling. His best friend Stan preferred to stay indoors and was disgusted by any mention of physical activity and Richie tried pressing, was even really good at it, but that was a thing about Stanley - he could never budge.

Richie turns to face the beach again, a little uncomfortable on the weird bench-like rock he’s been sitting on but instead of re-reading the same damn sentence he simply looks forward, reveling in the sound of laughter, crashing waves and the shifting of the sand. He zones out for a solid minute until a board comes smashing into his bench, making him jump a little. It’s the red-headed guy. Of course, it is.

He runs up to Richie with an ecstatic grin on his face, and Richie wants to take it and plant it on himself. He wants a smile that splits his face too. “Suh-suh-sorry, man.”

“All good here.” Richie wants to say something else, maybe make small talk which he’s usually good at but for some inexplicable reason he can’t get anything out of himself, and he bends down to look at the book again.

Richie miraculously reads a full page before he sees someone sprint in front of him, trying to catch up with their board. He realizes with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that it’s the knee socks kid - and he now clearly sees the red t-shirt, blue jean shorts, and a million dollar smile. Their eyes connect, and Richie’s heart speeds up faster than when he was on that terrifying Six Flags rollercoaster. It’s kind of nauseating, and he feels oddly nervous.

The boy huffs a laugh, cocking his hip to let the board sit there. “Sorry ‘bout that. My friend and I keep bugging you.”

“Like I told your friend - all good here. Skateparks aren’t exactly crowd-less.” Richie grins convincingly even though he’s starting to sweat for the first time since he sat down under the sun.

The guy smiles back, and his teeth are a stark contrast to the caramel tan. “What are you reading?”

“Um,” the name of the book flies right out of Richie’s head, along with his ability to coherently speak, apparently, “ _Lord of the Flies.”_

The boy comes closer and puts the board down, balancing on it as he talks. “School? I think I read that Junior year or something.”

“You’ve been out of school for a while?” He doesn’t look like he even graduated and Richie doesn’t want to be rude, so he forces himself to stop talking before he inevitably offends the guy.

But he just smiles and squats on the board, somehow perfectly balanced, confidence unwavering. “Babyface, I know. Still in school though. Senior.” The boy looks over to the side and chuckles when his friend falls on his ass again, and Richie can’t help but smile when a small dimple appears under the boy’s pink cheek. “What about you?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” says Richie without thinking and he hopes his voice reflected the joking nature of it.

“I mean, you’re wearing a school uniform. Blue means…Junior year, yeah? Red is Seniors.”

“You don’t go to my school.”

The boy straightens again, skating around Richie’s bench. “Definitely not. One of my friends does.” He suddenly skates away, down the slope and quickly makes it all the way to the other side where he’s nothing but a red blob. Richie squints in his glasses but can’t make out the expression on the guy’s face.

He drops his head back down to the book with an uneasy feeling, hoping he didn’t do something to push the guy away. He strangely wants to talk to him more, and Richie is usually good at talking, joking, all that, but he’s kind of speechless around this particular person. It makes him nervous, and he simultaneously wants to run away and bravely grab someone’s board to make it to the other side.

Richie sits for five more minutes, skimming through a couple of pages and decides he can’t stay still anymore. He lies down on his back, putting his head on the half-empty backpack and manages to go through a whole chapter before the red-headed guy’s in front of him again, this time without a valid reason to be. He just stands there for a while on top of the board like the other guy did earlier and looks at the beach. Richie puts the book down on his tummy and cocks an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

“D-duh-do you skate?” asks the guy, his cheeks tinted pink, green eyes jumping everywhere.

Richie bends his arm to elevate his head a little as too many thoughts race around his head, starting with  _why is he talking to me?_ and ends somewhere around Richie’s observation on how much easier it is to talk to this dude. His heart isn’t jumping out of his chest, and he might be able to make this guy laugh which is all Richie lives for at the end of the day.

“Nah, too tall and gangly. Hence, ridiculously unbalanced. String bean. Whatever.” His shoulders go up to his ears, and the boy laughs. Richie smiles and feels the desire to keep this shit up like a lifeline.

“Wuh-wuh-what are you d-doing at a skate park, then?” The boy looks behind him and furrows his brows before turning to Richie again.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought no-one would bother me here.” Richie winks and the guy blushes more now, smiling bashfully.

He opens his mouth to respond, but they suddenly hear the approaching sound of a skateboard and look in the direction of the pit. Richie sees the smaller guy approaching, his hair caught in the wind, lip stuck under the top row of teeth. He instantly sits back up, suddenly too breathless to feel so relaxed. The guy smiles when their eyes connect and skates right into a sitting position on the bench, leaning on Richie heavily from the speed at which he landed on his ass. Richie’s hand somehow lands on the boy’s slightly sweaty lower back, and he yanks it away, his finger tingly, stomach churning.

The boy giggles and Richie’s heart stings slightly.  _Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?_ “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t calculate this landing properly.”

“It’s okay. It was cute,” says Richie without thinking,  _my stupid motormouth, fucking shit,_ and he can feel his cheeks heat up feverishly and his throat feels tight. He’s waiting for something like  _dude, what?_ but when he finally turns to look at the boy he’s smiling at him small and bashful, sitting on his hands, rocking back and forth.  _Adorable_ is the only word bouncing around Richie’s head.

“We should p-puh-probably get out of your h-hair,” says the green-eyed boy with an awkward smile, all ready to go with a board under his armpit.

His friend ignores the offer to leave and instead extends a hand to Richie, eyes sparkly with that light grey that seems to look straight into your soul. “I’m Eddie. This is Bill,” he bends his head in the direction of his friend without breaking eye contact with Richie.

“Richie.” He shakes the boy’s hand, and it’s a lot softer than he’s used to and it makes him look down, noticing how his thumb alone bends around all of Eddie’s knuckles, covering them completely. Richie can’t help but smile at the image, unsure of why it makes him feel all  _that._

“Like Richie Rich?”

Richie laughs earnestly dropping the hand, the irony of it all not lost on him. “Some ways more than others.”

“Right. Private school, big house, you probably do fencing or some shit.”

“Tried fencing and I was terrible at it. Like I told Bill here - I have the coordination of a newborn giraffe.”

Eddie searches Richie’s face for several agonizing seconds with a big smile on his face, his freckles hiding in the folds of the slightly crumpled nose. “Newborn giraffes are kind of cute.”

“Okay-“ mutters Bill and quickly skates away, miraculously making it the whole way to the pit without face-planting.

Eddie snickers into his fist and turns back to Richie, seemingly scooting closer, but that could just be the trick of the eyes. Richie’s mouth is apparently faster than his brain again. Or his brain is too fast. Doesn’t it answer for everything he says? “You come here often?”

The boy giggles and blushes slightly, cocking an eyebrow that leaves Richie’s heart stuttering. “Are you hitting on me with the most typical pickup line ever?”

Richie feels his heart drop on the ground and roll all the way to the ocean and down, down, down. “Oh, no, I- I mean-  _fuck_ ,” he huffs a laugh quickly rubbing his steaming face, “do you  _actually_ hang out here often?”

Eddie keeps smiling sweetly, looking at Richie with unabashed interest. He seems to think the question over from a different perspective and looks towards the water when he answers. Richie notices the smooth bend of his nose and how pretty his skin looks under the sunset light. Richie feels like he ran the field three times back and forth, he’s so breathless.

“Yeah, I mean, this is the only place I like to hang out besides home. I don’t really go out.” There’s something oddly vulnerable in that admission even though Richie doesn’t necessarily think it’s such an odd thing to say.

“Me neither. If you don’t count all the times pops drags me to be his caddie to a golf club in Malibu. Love getting undressing stares from old white men.”

Eddie laughs and looks at Richie pitifully, scrunching up his face in a ridiculously cute way. “Ew. Don’t go there.”

“I  _try_  not to! I literally ran out of excuses at this point. Whatevs,” he says throwing an arm forward, laughing slightly. Talking to Eddie feels… _nice._ Nicer than he wants to think about.

 _“EDDIE!”_ they hear Bill scream with his hands around his mouth, waving for Eddie to make it to the other side, pointing at someone standing next to him.

“Oh!” exclaims Eddie, gesturing Bill a thumbs up. He bends down to see where his board is and they both look over to the left where it’s propped halfway on the grass. “I gotta go. My friend just got here.” Eddie jogs towards the board, neatly jumping on the side that was on the sidewalk, making the board do a 360 to get it on the ground again.

Richie feels ridiculously impressed even though skating never fascinated him enough to be that interested in it. He might be  _very_ interested now.

Eddie runs a hand through his hair as he rolls to balance in front of Richie and he notices a thin beady bracelet, many colors on it. Eddie smiles when their eyes connect, and Richie has the biggest desire to grab the boy’s hand and take him to the little café across the street, where they make the best strawberry cappuccinos and small chocolate croissants and  _what the actual FUCK, Rich, you want a date or something?_ Richie huffs an awkward laugh at his own thoughts, nervous that the boy would hear him, knowing well enough, though, that it’s not possible and he  _really_ needs to be less self-conscious.

“Don’t have too much fun without me, Eds,” says Richie, his mouth apparently desperate to make a lasting impression. His hands are slightly shaky where he’s wringing his fingers between the two of them.

Eddie groans and leans back a little in a dramatic manner that Richie thinks he’d imitate if he was less nervous to be around the guy. “No nicknames, for the love of God.”

“It’s not like you’re ever gonna hear it again.” Richie’s heart stings instantly when he says it, and he’s terrified there might be truth in that statement.

Eddie looks at him a little bug-eyed, a smile falling from his lips. “You’re not planning on coming here again?”

Richie considers it, looking past Eddie on the water, hearing the loud laughter, the sound of boards on the smooth surface, the wind rustling palm trees above him and then at Eddie’s face, framed by the pink and orange glow of the sunset behind them. He thinks he couldn’t stay away from this place even if he tried. “Dunno. Don’t live that close.”  _Right. I’ll probably die if I don’t see your face again._

“Okay. Well…I hope to see you soon.” Eddie’s voice is so small when he says that and his eyes are almost pleading. Richie doesn’t know why this kid would ever want to hang out with him, but he can’t replace the responsive feeling in his chest and all the hurricanes happening in his gut.

“Me too, Eds. See ya.” Eddie rolls his eyes and runs onto his board, sticking his tongue out and screams “Bye, Richie!” skating down the slope, towards his friends.

Richie follows him with his eyes languidly, wanting to run down the slope, tumbling head first into the guy’s arms.  _Whatever_. He smiles at the distant image of Eddie’s red shirt and picks up his book to put it inside the backpack. He waits several seconds to see the Sun finally drown itself in the water and goes up to walk to the parking lot, backpack on one shoulder. He looks over at the pit one last time, hoping to catch Eddie’s eye but he’s skating back and forth, swift and skillful, and Richie grins sheepishly, unwilling to let the image exit his mind.

He texts Stanley on the red light, asking him to come over. He has to figure out an excuse to drag Stan with him next time. Not that it’s too weird to hang out at the beach for no apparent reason, drawn to a cute tan guy on a skateboard.  _Shit._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...idk what happened  
> I really shouldn't be starting new things but this didn't leave my head for HOURS  
> I literally couldn't do anything until I wrote this  
> hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> tumblr: notsugarandspice


	2. Chapter 2

Eddie hasn’t been able to sleep for a whole week. It all fell on him like a vicious monsoon in the middle of an open field. No hopes for cover.

It was just another sunny day, dreamy and pleasant, like most Cali days. The ocean had a pretty glisten, it wasn’t too crowded at the skatepark because the weather was more chilly than usual, and Bill agreed to go out instead of playing video games, which had recently been his favourite occupation. Eddie couldn’t understand for the life of him why a teenage boy would want to stay indoors. Well, he  _kind_   _of_  could.

He used to sit at home a lot in elementary school. That’s all he did, really. His mom was overbearing to the point of insanity, and she refused to admit she had a problem. She and his dad were teetering towards divorce when Sonia’s diabetes finally made itself known, giving her a heart attack she couldn’t recover from. She never went for check-ups but loved taking her son. Eddie was only ten back then, he couldn’t remember a lot, but he never missed his mother as much as he probably should. The only memories of her he had was a lock in his door and a bottle of cold medicine that he didn’t need on the bedside drawer. And their constant fighting. As much as he hated to think it, everything was better now.

He flips over to his side, watching the way the drying laundry flops outside his window, uneasy with the morning wind. The Sun just started peaking over the horizon, Eddie can tell by the slightly dim light in his room devoid of curtains. He’s been tossing in his bed for the last thirty minutes, trying to calm his mind enough to let him get another half an hour of sleep. It obviously wasn’t happening.  _Nada_. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the dark-haired guy out of his head.

He could never understand the whole thing with crushes. Eddie doesn’t fall for random people. It just doesn’t happen. Until last Friday, that is. The guy really didn’t try to stand out at all, quite the contrary, he was in his uniform, with a book in hand, occasionally glancing at the beach, all forlorn and  _beautiful_. But something about him exasperated Eddie as if Richie was placed on that beach to personally taunt and distract him, all plans of peacefully skating totally ruined. The moment he saw Bill talking to someone on the bench (Bill’s board always ran away from him because he never listened when Eddie said  _you need more practice before you go crazy_ ) he couldn’t shake the image out of his head.

Richie’s curls sticking out of the hair tie, blue eyes that seemingly changed contrast mid-conversation, all the freckles on his nose and lips. It’s like the image of Richie’s face was permanently stuck behind his eyelids, and the sounds of his slightly croaky voice, and the way that blue polo shifted around his chest when he shimmied on the bench, embarrassed about every adorable thing he’s said. It’s been a week, and Eddie  _still_ can’t get him out of his head. They talked  _once. This is getting ridiculous._

Eddie sits up tapping his foot on the floor, lost in his head completely. He goes to the bathroom on autopilot, rubs his face with cold water and moves down the stairs. Everything is starting to take shape as sunlight slowly creeps upward, all pretty and golden, and Eddie smiles before turning into the kitchen, an image of that shade on Richie’s skin perfectly clear in his mind. Frank is already there, sipping his herbal tea, wetsuit covering the lower half of his body.

“Aren’t you running late?” asks Eddie kissing his dad’s cheek.

Frank puts down the tea smiling and ruffles Eddie’s hair fondly. “I gotta pick up Marcy from her house so we can go together.”

Eddie opens the fridge door and rolls his eyes. Sometimes, Frank Kaspbrak is a tad too generous. “Dad, she lives in Malibu.”

“So? It’s barely a forty minute drive.”

Eddie takes out orange juice and pours himself a glass. “Yeah, if you go at five in the morning. And it’s not anymore, so you’re  _already_ late.” Frank looks at his son for several seconds, and Eddie eventually meets his eyes. “What?”

“You’re fussy, is all. Like your mama.”

Eddie’s eyebrows instantly draw together. “I’m not  _fussy._ And don’t compare me to her.”

Frank cocks his head to the side in that parental manner that indicates that he’s crossing the line. “You don’t need to get like that anytime I bring her up.”

“Then don’t.” Eddie finishes the glass and puts it into the sink.

“I made you avocado toast,” says Frank, pointing at two pieces neatly placed in the frying pan.

Eddie smiles fondly and hugs his dad from the back, burying his face in his back. “You didn’t have to.”

Frank laughs and taps Eddie’s hands around his belly. “Sure, kiddo. You can’t keep eating Clif bars for every meal.”

“They’re  _good.”_ Eddie lets go and grabs the plate, headed towards their cozy back porch. He hears Frank say  _good doesn’t mean healthy_ and opens the screen door, the scent of the ocean making his stomach flip with excitement. He can just see a sliver of the dark blue water between a couple of houses several streets down. He might be able to go skating early if Bill doesn’t come up with another elaborate plan to stay indoors. Not that Eddie needs the company  _that_ much, but it’s always fun to go with someone else. And Beverly usually works every day of the week. Her showing up last weekend was a goddamn miracle.

He’s halfway through the first toast when Frank pushes the door open, a bottle of water in hand. He places it in front of the plate just when Eddie gets the first hiccup. “Right on cue.” He kisses the top of his son’s head and grabs his sunglasses from the table. “I’m out. I’m going to stop by the store later. You need anything?”

Eddie hiccups again and irritably slams the fist on the table. “No, should be-“  _hiccup_ “DAMN IT-  fine.”

Frank puts the fist out, and Eddie bumps him quickly before emptying half the water bottle. His throat calms by the time Frank leaves, but his mind drifts back to Richie and the irrational fear of never seeing him again.  _Don’t live that close._ He might not  _ever_ come to that beach again. Eddie wallows in self-pity for ten more agonizing minutes before he decides to check the extent of his weekend homework. He might be able to finish everything before he goes out tonight.

 

* * *

 

Naturally, Eddie didn’t anticipate the amount of work that needs to be done by Monday, and since he has very serious plans for the rest of the weekend, he forces himself to complete  _most_ of it, excluding the reading that he could cram in before he goes to bed. By the time he finishes everything, it’s almost 5:00 PM and he picks up the phone to call Bill. He responds right before Eddie hangs up, already on the front porch to head out.

_“Hello?”_

“Bill? How long does it take to answer the phone?”

Eddie can hear the background music of a video game, and he knows the call is hopeless before he asks.  _“I’m buh-buh-busy.”_

“Busy sitting on your ass? It’s  _Saturday._ You really gonna stay home?”

_“Did you call in t-t-to be my mom?”_

Eddie drops the board to lock the front door. “Wow, mature. You really not going to show up?”

_“Dude, I’m on the graveyard l-luh-level. I’ve been stu-uh-uck all day.”_

_Yeah, like your ass is stuck to that bean chair._ “You really think it’s going to take you five more hours to finish it?” Eddie pushes the board forward and runs up to jump on it, swerving on an empty road.

_“Have you ever played a v-v-video game, Eddie? -FUCK!”_

“You know I have. Whatever, this is pointless. You know where I’ll be.”

_“Sure. Have f-fun.”_

“You too, Billy.” Eddie rolls his eyes and puts the phone in the pocket of his overall shorts, speeding up to grab a smoothie on his way to the skatepark.

He gets to the café across the street from the beach and orders the pineapple strawberry smoothie and asks to add kale, thinking that dad would be proud to see him trying. What he  _doesn’t_ need to know about is a mint chocolate Clif bar in one of Eddie’s pockets. The less you know…or something.

Eddie waits for the walking light to turn on while he sips on his smoothie, trying to make out the people at the skatepark across the road. He can’t see anyone he’s close with, just a couple of people from school he sees in the hallways. The light changes and Eddie is already halfway done with the drink, silently cursing himself for being a fast eater. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and by the time he makes it to the other side, he’s battling light waves of nausea. And somehow, he still feels hungry.

He rolls through the skatepark to the sidewalk that leads to the beach, the sun still bright and warm in that particular May-California way. Eddie stops the board right before the sand, throws out the nearly done smoothie, and quickly takes the yellow Vans off. He walks barefoot towards the lifeguard post, his beady ankle bracelet shifting pleasantly as he moves. Eddie remembers the time when he hated the beach when the feeling of the sand between his toes seemed foreign and disgusting. Then Frank took up surfing and took his son with him every day. Now it’s home. Venice is his little getaway, a small paradise a mere mile away.

He gets to the post and drops his shoes on the first step, carrying the board to the top to make sure no one nicks it. Eddie knocks on the door and smiles wide when Mike opens it almost immediately, chewing on an apple. He waves Eddie inside and sits back on the chair. Eddie immediately grabs the large binoculars and looks over to the ocean, noticing a young couple slashing in the waves, happy and drunk judging by the redness on their faces.

“You’re late today.”

“Yeah, I had so much shit to do.” Eddie puts down the binoculars and climbs up to sit on the table, turned sideways to Mike. “Exams are in a week, and they all collectively decided to fail us.”

Mike snorts and takes another bite, looking off at the water longingly. Eddie sees his strong want to just go and surf as soon as he’s off which should be in less than two hours. Eddie takes the Clif bar out of his pocket and bites off almost half of it at once, much to Mike’s delight. He stifles giggles and picks up his phone to take a photo of Eddie with a mouth full of chocolate oats. Eddie pretends to dislike the attention.

Eddie is kind of grateful he doesn’t have Bill with him today - Bill and Mike had a fling last year that ended in their collective inability to hold a serious relationship. As it turns out, neither was ready for it. And Mike was older anyway: if Eddie had zero patience with Bill, the other had even less. Fortunately, they didn’t act hostile towards each other, but there was still a grain of awkwardness anytime they hung out. So Eddie tries to stop by alone.

They talk for almost half an hour, completely lost in conversation since they haven’t seen one other for a solid month. Eddie invites Mike to tomorrow’s bonfire, and he happily agrees, doesn’t even ask if Bill’s going to be there.

Mike sees someone struggling to make it out of the raging waves, and he grabs a lifejacket, sprinting down the steps with alarming stability. Eddie huffs an incredulous laugh and hops down to his shoes, carrying them to that same spot Richie sat yesterday. He cleans off the sand from his feet, puts the shoes back on and smiles at the lowering sunlight, gradually moving towards the horizon. He has about an hour of light, and he intends on using it. Eddie runs with the board and lets it roll just before the bend, sliding down gracefully, feeling free and happy. A couple of guys who usually hang out there whoop him and he shoots them a thumbs up.

Eddie gets to the other end of the park and stands on top, fishing out his headphones. He plugs them in and turns on  _Feel It Still,_ tapping his foot on the board with the rhythm of the beat. He quickly shoots Bev a text hoping she’ll have a chance to stop by.

Eddie skates smoothy for about half an hour, warming up, feels his legs move with less effort now, feet gliding on the smooth surface when he pushes. He ollies onto the sidewalk, high and easy, his lower body moving on its own accord. Eddie rolls towards the clearing with the rails and practices his jumps, scaling them as he goes. There’s an especially long rail he’s had his eye on for a while now, taller than others and he has all the intentions to actually go through with it today. He practices on smaller ones for a while, long enough for the Sun to almost touch the horizon.

He takes a deep breath and finally collects the courage to attempt scaling it. He fails three solid times, skating away with zero to none contact before he manages to even go halfway. It takes him some time, but he finally does it right, feeling light and invincible. Eddie continues practicing as sunlight moves to hide behind the water, and more people start showing up at the park.

But he makes a small mistake when he’s on top of the rail for the nth time, thinking he’s confident enough to avoid looking at his feet even for a split second. He lifts his head to look out at the approaching pedestrians, hoping one of them is going to be Beverly jogging with her skateboard towards him. It would take him next to no time to register the red hair and look back down. But what he sees instead is a face he hasn’t been able to push out of his mind, haloed in loose black curls, same perfect black glasses. Eddie knows he’s not nearly confident enough on this rail do to shit like that, and that’s how he loses his balance, the board tipping too much on one side, the wheels catching on the metal, and his body somehow does a full 360 in the air before he smacks hard on his elbows and knees, miraculously holding his neck to avoid grazing the forehead.

Eddie doesn’t fall. Even the idea of it shocks him enough that there are several seconds of numbness and slight deafness before the world seems to resume and he flips over, groaning slightly. He starts feeling the blood pulsing in both of his elbows and one of the knees, on the heel of his hand, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes, still in a state of mild shock.

He’d laugh if this was a regular thing for him. If he fell every day, somehow landing perfectly well on the board, sliding away to other’s cheers. But this simply doesn’t happen to him, he’s too careful. He’s not scared of pain at all, not scared of falling, but rather the implications of open scratches, his blood mixing with the dirt on the sidewalk, the leftover sand from the beach mere feet away, all the ger-

“Fuck, Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie opens his eyes, somehow only now realizing that he’s been wrapped in himself on the ground for fuck knows how long. Richie is bending down in front of him, eyes wide and black eyebrows drawn together, the pink and orange of the sunrise reflected on his skin. He looks so beautiful that Eddie momentarily forgets what happened mere seconds ago.

“N-no,” he chuckles because his heart is stuttering and his mind is too occupied with this stupidly attractive and caring boy next to him that the pulsing in his elbows is replaced by the nauseating feeling of  _great, my crush just saw me fall on my ass._

Richie’s face relaxes slightly, and he takes something out of Eddie’s hair. Richie’s wrist comes close to his face, and he smells some sort of cologne. His whole body is buzzing. “Where’s your board?”

It takes Eddie a second to force himself to cooperate with the real world, and he looks behind him, seeing it at the end of the sidewalk, on the very edge of the park. He points at it, his elbow stinging harshly when it bends.

Eddie hisses, and Richie looks panicked for a second. “Wait here.”  _Nah, I’m not moving until you carry me to the ER in your noodle arms. The only form of transportation I accept._ Richie runs towards the end of the park, jumping a little when a girl almost comes crashing into him, swerving at the last second. Eddie chuckles and just notices that Richie isn’t wearing his uniform (obviously) and has on some blue shorts, an open white button down and some nonsensical white boy t-shirt underneath. He looks amazing, clothes fitted well and hugging him all right. Eddie’s heart jumps when he sees the same style Vans on him, but in white, slightly dirty and dusty. Richie stops by the board to tie some of the hair in half-up-half-down, smiling back at Eddie bashfully as he does so.  _Wow, you’re so far gone, Kaspbrak._

“So, you’re Eddie?” asks a guy standing on the same spot Richie was earlier, arms crossed, a blank expression on his face.

“Huh?”  _Who the fu-_

“Richie hasn’t stopped talking about you for the last eight days. He never stops talking, but it’s been especially annoying this past week.” Eddie looks at him in pure confusion, and the other’s face still doesn’t change. “I’m Stan, Richie’s friend from school.”

_Oh. At least he introduced himself as a_ friend. “Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He tries to get up, starting to realize it might be impolite to talk to people in this position and leans on the heel of his hand, forgetting about the scrape there. He hisses and tries to lean on the other one when he sees an arm extending in front of him, slightly softer expression on the boy’s face. Eddie takes it with a smile, and Stan lifts him up like he weighs nothing, wiping his hands on the khaki shorts after. Eddie represses a snort, and he’s saved from some awkward small talk by Richie, who finally stops in front of them.

“Your board looks alright, no dents or anything.”

Eddie takes it out of Richie’s hands without so much as a glance at its condition. “I mean, it’s a skateboard…it would be weird if it  _didn’t_ have some scratches.” Stan snorts and connects eyes with Richie whose cheeks are tinted pink. Eddie feels himself figuratively melting into the ground. “Well, thanks for helping me. I think I’m gonna uber to the ER.”

Eddie gives the two of them an awkward wave, his stomach tumbling from the unwavering gaze of his crush. He chastises himself for ruining possibly the only opportunity to hang out with Richie. But not thirty seconds later there’s a hand on his bare shoulder, and Eddie turns, smiling when he sees black eyebrows drawn together.

“Eds, you don’t need to go to the emergency room.”

Eddie is momentarily offended, and he steps back slightly, feeling judged and mocked. But none of those things are reflected on Richie’s face, nothing but concern, really. He thinks maybe he’s overreacting slightly, but he can’t stop his brain from making a thousand scenarios of how this fall could result in an auto-immune disease or something. Not that that would be Richie’s fault. Eddie’s eyes fall on Stan who’s casually strolling towards them, his eyes searching something in the palm trees.

“Hey, are you okay?” asks Richie, grabbing Eddie by the elbow in the most gentle manner but one that still results in an embarrassing whiny sound. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie can feel the heat on his cheeks, and his heartbeat is rising again, either from the touch or the stupid sounds that seem to escape his mouth around this guy. Either way, he can’t stop looking at the way Richie’s curls hug his ears, or how his blush spreads all the way to his chest, and Eddie forgets the pain for a while.

“Um…my friend works at this café across the street. They have a first aid kit and everything. I could help patch you up,” says Richie with a hand on his neck and the sweetest crooked smile Eddie has ever seen. He’s pretty sure having Richie’s hands on his knees would quite literally give him a heart attack, but he nods nonetheless, too enthralled by the possibility of spending a little more time with the guy.

Stan finally makes it to their awkward little bubble and reaches something out to Eddie in an outstretched hand. It’s Eddie’s phone, seemingly scratched but miraculously void of cracks.  _I really need to get myself a phone case._ “Thank you.” Eddie puts it in the pocket of his overall shorts, and when he lifts his eyes Richie is staring, a dopey grin on his face. “What?”

Richie’s eyes lift, widening a little from being caught. “Nothing, just…love the outfit.” Eddie would think he is being mocked if not for the quiet way Richie said it, and the prompt roll of Stan’s eyes that Eddie wants to think signifies  _wow, you’re so far gone, man._

“Thanks.” Eddie puts down the board but thinks better of it and grabs it back up. He doesn’t want to tumble in the middle of the crosswalk because of the stinging throbbing in his knee, and embarrassing himself in front of Richie for a second time is definitely not going to make him more appealing in the boy’s eyes. So he silently walks in front of the guys, turning only once to see Stanley smack Richie on the shoulder, much to the other’s chagrin.

Eddie knows this café well but has never been inside before. They have a small to-go window on the side where he always gets his smoothies, mostly reserved for soaking wet surfers who aren’t allowed indoors. Eddie opens the door and holds it with his sneaker, letting Richie and Stan in. Stan nods his head, and Richie salutes him, making Eddie giggle. He then falls behind, following them to the register.

The whole place is full of the cutest pastel colors: pale blue counters, baby pink and white walls, canary yellow tables. The atmosphere is peaceful, and Eddie easily recognizes  _Alina Baraz_ coming through the speakers. Everything smells like vanilla and tropical fruit.

Richie beats his fingers on the counter, imitating bongos and Eddie just notices how much more relaxed he looks in the company of his friend. It makes Eddie long to know  _that_ side of Richie, carefree and happy. He hopes to see that someday.

A man comes out the backdoor, yellow apron on, and his face instantly lights up upon seeing his two friends. He extends a fist to Richie, but the other leans over the counter to clap the boy on the back. The guy laughs, and his cheeks redden slightly underneath a growing beard. Stan only raises a hand to him and smiles, crossing arms behind him. He catches Eddie staring and cocks an eyebrow. Eddie steps in front of the pastry display case to avoid having a conversation with Mr. Unapproachable.

“Haystack, let me introduce you, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Ben.” Richie gestures between them and they wave at each other awkwardly. “Hey, do you still have that first aid kit in the back?”

Ben furrows his brows, looking at the expanse of Richie’s bare limbs. “What’d you hit this time?”

Richie sends him a finger gun and then gently turns Eddie’s arm to show a nasty scrape on the elbow. “Not me, this time. Eds needs some help.”

“Not my name,” mutters Eddie under his breath, looking at Richie from under his lashes. The other merely smiles wide, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.  _Carefree and happy, huh?_

“Looks bad, Eddie. Here, follow me.” Ben waves a hand and goes to the other side of the coffee bar, lifting the opening for the rest of them to pass through. Only Stan hasn’t moved an inch, curiously studying the menu as if he’s never seen it before.

Ben pushes the backdoor leading to a small kitchen and further down to the freezers. There’s an office table right behind an enormous industrial sink and Ben steps on his chair to retrieve the first aid kit from the shelf. He gives the box to Richie, probably out of habit, and points to Eddie’s skateboard.

“Ah, you skate. That explains the…” Ben walks around Eddie to assess the damage, “three bruises. Damn. Happens a lot?”

“Not really. I don’t fall.” Richie snorts, and Eddie shoots him a glare.

“You need my-“

“No! I’ll help him. You go on, Benny boy, you have customers waiting.” Richie clutches the box to his chest, smiling wide, eyes darting between Eddie and Ben.  _Weirdo._

Ben lifts his arms in defense and huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say. Holler if you need me.”

He disappears behind the service door, and Richie turns to Eddie, lips twitching a little. “Um…you should probably sit down.” Richie points to the chair, and Eddie puts the board underneath. He tries to get comfortable, folding the hands in front of him but then his elbows bump into the jean fabric and he suppresses a hiss, putting his palms on top of the thighs instead. Richie leans in front of him, his chin on the bony knee, ruffling through the contents of the box somewhere on the floor.

“You get hurt a lot?”

Richie lifts his head with wide ocean eyes as if he’s half-surprised Eddie is sitting in front of him. “More than I probably should.”

“Why, because you don’t skate?”

Richie chuckles and the sound makes Eddie’s heart beat faster. “No, because you’d think I’d be in control of my body by seventeen.” He gets up and walks towards the sink, washing his hands. Eddie watches his face intently, seeing it relax and then go back to a contemplative state, and he wants to ask what the boy is thinking.  _I wonder if I make him nervous as much as he makes_ me. Richie bends down to pick up some tissues from the box and goes to wet them, settling back in front of Eddie after.

“Oh, um…you might wanna…they’ll probably get dirty.” Richie points to the Vans, and before Eddie has time to react, Richie takes one off with his left hand and puts it on top of the board. He fidgets on the spot with a clean wet tissue and decides to put it in the box while he runs back to wash his hands. Eddie wonders if he’s this thorough when administering his own cuts but he’s grateful nonetheless. If Richie touched his knee after touching his shoes, he might yell loud enough to scare all the customers.

“You know, you don’t have to do all this for me. I know how.”

“Thought you don’t fall?” He cocks an eyebrow, but his face almost instantly changes to something wounded. “Do you not want me to help?”

“No, I- that’s not what I meant. I just- forget I said anything.”

Richie leans in front of him in the same manner, and their eyes connect, making Eddie’s skin tingle. “Are you sure you want me to continue?”

“Yeah.”

Richie smiles in relief and picks the tissue back up. “Okie-dokie.” He gently presses on the knee, then rubs around it cleaning the dirt and the dried up blood. Eddie’s breathing gets slightly ragged when Richie’s face gets closer, his hand on the back of the knee, inspecting for debris. Richie wipes the small dry stripe of blood that trickled down sometime after the fall.

“You’re really good at this.” He  _is_ but the main reason Eddie speaks is to distract himself from the hurricane of inappropriate thoughts.

Richie smiles and a blush tints his cheeks as he absentmindedly wipes Eddie’s calf. “I guess. My own fault for falling so much.”

“Right. Like a baby giraffe.” Eddie can’t help but grin. That image hasn’t left his mind since last week.

Richie bashfully pushes his glasses up and folds the tissue in half. He goes to the side of the chair, looking over the wound on Eddie’s elbow. There’s one running down the forearm too, a lot more mild but stinging nonetheless. He wipes there too careful and slow, and Eddie feels his arms cover in goosebumps anytime Richie’s fingers connect with the skin. Richie goes behind the chair to do the other arm, and Eddie tries to listen to the sound of plunking water drops in the sink instead of the boy’s breathing. He can feel his back cramming and ass numbing from sitting in the same position, but he doesn’t want to be rude by moving or doing anything to accidentally deprive himself of Richie’s touch. Eddie patiently waits for his wounds to get cleaned and for Richie to crawl back to the front to finally shift on the chair.  

Richie gently turns Eddie’s hand, wiping the scrape there. Eddie fights a smile when he sees the contrast of their skin and how small his hand looks in Richie’s. He spares a look at the boy’s face and the length of his lashes kind of takes Eddie’s breath away.

“Are you not gonna..?” Eddie points towards the small hydrogen peroxide spray in the corner of the box.

“Nah. I used to do it as a kid but I’ve heard it does nothing but irritates the skin, so…” Richie takes out a couple of bandaids from the box, assembling them on top of Eddie’s thigh. He smiles up and opens the first one, putting it on the upper half of the knee scrape.

“What’s up with Stan?”

Richie is so taken by the question that he loudly laughs, angling his face down to look at Eddie from above his glasses. “Is that a loaded question?”

“No, I just- He’s so…”

“Reserved? All don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-intimidating?”

Eddie cocks his head and huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know. He has strict parents.” Richie opens another band-aid and fits it under the first one. “He’s always been like that.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

Richie moves to the side to put a little cross on the elbow. “Here, keep it bent- Um…probably since sixth grade? I’ve been in that school since elementary but Stan the Man joined in middle.”

Eddie hums, and a question slips out before he can stop it. “Is he a friend?”

There’s a long stretch of silence afterward, and Eddie wants to either swivel the chair and aggressively demand answers, or run until he gets to the ocean. Either way, he’s near a death wish at the moment. He stares forward, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you asking?” Richie’s question is a lot more mature and calculated than Eddie expects, and it throws him off for a second. What  _does_ he want?

“I don’t know. Just curious.”

Richie chuckles but doesn’t say anything, moving behind the chair to do the other elbow.

“What?” Eddie is growing exasperated, either with himself or Richie, or Richie’s proximity, or how nice it feels to have Richie’s fingers on his bicep.

“Don’t get defensive.”

“I’m not.”

Richie finishes the work and collects the wrap in the ball, walking to throw it out by the sink. “It’s cute.”

Eddie can feel his eyes widen to a laughable degree. “What’s cute?”

“Not  _what,_ but  _who.”_ Richie turns and nods towards Eddie who’s just about to explode from the last minute of rollercoaster emotions.

“I’m not.”

Richie sits on the balls of his feet to close down the box. He puts it on the table and stays in the same position to look at Eddie. “Is this a scenario where you expect me to convince you you  _are_?”

Eddie leans forward, their faces now so close together he can feel the spearmint on Richie’s breath. He didn’t notice him chewing so it must be Altoids. He suddenly has the strongest desire deep in his belly to crash their mouths together. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“Why did you ask about Stan?”

Eddie’s eyes dart towards Richie’s lips, pink and inviting. “Why did you ask why I asked?”

Richie laughs, and his head falls forward, so close to Eddie’s nose that he can smell the shampoo the boy used. “We’re doing  _this_  now, huh?”

“You didn’t answer.”

Richie lifts his head back up and stares at Eddie’s lips for a while before responding. “Stan’s just a friend.”

Eddie grins wider than is probably socially acceptable and slaps both hands on his thighs, making Richie laugh. “I knew it!”

“You seem excited.” Richie grabs the shoe from the board and puts it under Eddie’s foot. He slips it on, and Richie helps him with the heel. He doesn’t miss the ankle bracelet, and he moves it up and down before looking back up at Eddie.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Eddie doesn’t know if it’s their proximity or the knowledge that Richie’s single that does it, but he suddenly feels bold and hopeful.

Richie gets up and rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. “Uh, nothing but homework, really. Why?”

“There’s a party on the beach tomorrow night. Well…more like a small bonfire.” Eddie gets up from the chair, and he suddenly feels awkward and small, his heart stuck in the middle of his throat. “Will you come? You can bring whoever you want.”  _Unless it’s a date. Then I’ll throw him into the fire._

Richie’s blush spreads down to the collar of the white shirt, and he smiles so wide it makes Eddie’s chest hurt. “Sure, I’ll be there. Can’t miss an opportunity when a cutie like you asks me out.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, right.” Richie rolls his eyes and walks towards the back door, basically escaping their awkward conversation. Which Eddie is infinitely grateful for because he might’ve jumped Richie in that sterile backroom.

He walks out after checking that they didn’t leave a mess and notices that the café is mostly deserted now. Most people would be at the bar at this time of night. The group is sitting at the large table closest to the register and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees a curly redhead standing by it, talking to Ben animatedly.   
“Bev?” She turns towards him and beams instantly. Her board is abandoned on the floor when her arms wrap around Eddie, slightly lifting him off the ground. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your location, dummy.” Her short hair tickles his ears, and he pulls away with a small squeal. She turns his arms to see the damage and gives him an adorable pout. “My boo got a boo-boo.”

“You  _wish_ I was your boo.”

She groans loud, throwing her hands towards the hypothetical sky. “ _God,_ I do!”

The boys at the table laugh, the entirety of Ben’s attention on all Beverly’s movements. Richie, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie and it’s making him restless. He walks towards the table and touches Ben’s shoulder gently. “Hey, thank you for the kit.”

Ben puts a hand on top of his and smiles bashfully. “Don’t worry about it.” He gets up from the chair and moves in the direction of the register. “By the way, do you guys want anything? I’m closing soon.”

Eddie feels something tickling his fingers and looks down, seeing Richie’s hand hovering there, uncertain. “You want something Eddie-Spaghetti?”

“I’m sorry,  _what_ did you just call him?” Bev leans on the table and looks at Eddie with raised brows that translate to  _you better spill ALL the tea, immediately._ Her eyes drift down to where their fingers helplessly gravitate towards one another, and she sticks the tongue between rows of white teeth, trying to be all playful and cute. Eddie hates and loves her all at once.

“He has a thing for nicknames, I think,” says Eddie and Stan hums in response, too enthralled in his book to actively participate in the conversation. Where he got it is a mystery to Eddie.

“Are we here to discuss me or your empty stomach?” Richie lifts himself off the seat and grabs Eddie by the hips, stubbornly leading him towards the display case. Eddie’s first instinct is to swat him away but it’s  _Richie,_ and his lower body is all tingly where long fingers sneak through the jean fabric, touching the barely covered skin of Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s brain doesn’t function enough to make a conscious food choice, so he picks the first thing he sees - tomato mozzarella panini and Richie gets the same, ordering himself some kind of a green bubble tea. Eddie asks for a bottle of water, and he almost flips shit when Richie takes out his wallet to pay for both of them. But then Ben shares his employee discount and Eddie doesn’t feel  _that_ bad. The whole thing makes his stomach feel all fuzzy as if they’re on a date. Which they’re  _not._ But he wants it to be and daydreams about exactly that when they sit down to eat, surrounded by their friends.

Ben closes the café about half an hour later, and they hang out with him until he leaves. Bev is very enthusiastic to help, volunteering to wrap the plates with pastries and wipe the counters while Eddie and Richie flip all the chairs to go on top of the tables. Stanley locks all doors and documents the expired products and Ben repeats several times that he’s infinitely grateful and they’re all angels. Most of the words are directed towards Beverly though. He’s not fooling anyone.

The night is over quicker than it began and Eddie finds himself stalling, buying time to talk more, participate in some banter, maybe offer to teach someone how to skate. But as they file out the back door, he can see that all of his friends are yawning, and he feels the exhaustion push heavily on his shoulders. Eddie is usually asleep by ten, and he wants to make it back home to do some of the school reading. He knows he’s going to be too lazy to do any of that tomorrow.

Everyone walks towards the parking lot, and Richie falls slightly behind as if expecting Eddie to temporarily stop him. Which he does, grabbing the tall boy by the elbow, making him turn. “So, will you come tomorrow? Around eight?”

Richie grins and tugs on the strap of Eddie’s overall shorts. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the nickname but doesn’t say anything. This guy is really rubbing off on him. “Thanks for patching me up. You really don’t seem like a kid who’d know stuff like that.”

Richie lifts his shirt and Eddie sees a small Finding Nemo band-aid on his ribs, but it only takes him a second to notice that. He spends the rest of the time studying the outline of the dark trail of hair that leads to the silver button. “This is me successfully making it to my front door on Friday. There was one on my chin, but it wasn’t as bad.” He shrugs and lets the shirt go, smiling at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles and puts the board down, moving it back and forth with his right foot. He wants to say so much and so little at the same time, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Richie quickly bends down and kisses him on the cheek. It’s so soft and swift that Eddie doesn’t have enough time to register what happened until he sees Richie walking backwards towards the rest of the group congregated around the only two cars at the lot. Eddie touches the burning cheek, his abdomen tumbling violently. When Richie finally turns back, Eddie lets his hands drop and laughs stupidly at the ground, dazed with all the events of what he thought would be an average afternoon. He feels a crazy buzz running through him as if someone just kick-started his body. Everything seems bright and pretty, and he feels so happy he could scream. He  _will_ scream in his pillow when he gets home.

He pushes off in the opposite direction after waving everyone goodbye, skating fast with no care in the world. The bruises are a dumb reminder to be careful, but he can’t think of anything coherent right now. He got to see Richie again, got to spend time with him. He even got a  _kiss._ He smiles like an idiot and halfway home he hears another board behind him. He stops and turns to see Beverly speeding towards him, all smiley and giddy. She halts to his side and gently punches his arm.

“Okay, that was the  _most_ interesting group of people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“Are you gonna tell me about the tall, mysterious guy?” She wiggles her eyebrows and makes a miming move of covering her face with a cape like a vampire.

Eddie giggles and pushes off again, down the empty street. “Are you gonna tell me about the cute coffee man?”

She laughs and goes after him, swerving from side to side. “Awh, dammit! How did you catch on to that?”

“I see  _everything._ ” Eddie puts two fingers to his eyes and directs them back to Beverly. “Wanna come over?”

“Duh! Why do you think I’m skating in the opposite direction of my house, dumbass?”

 

They come back to the Kaspbrak residence and see Frank sleeping on the chair outside, snoring so loud Eddie’s sure they’re going to get a noise complaint. They stifle giggles as they gently wake him, half-leading him down the hall towards his bedroom. They end up talking much longer than Eddie thought they would, running way past midnight. They’re so entranced in it that by the time Bev runs out of the bathroom half-naked, seemingly interrupted by something she remembered, Eddie knows what she’s going to say before he hears it. With all the talk about their crushes, he’s shocked he forgot about it himself.

“Oh my God, you’re a birthday boy! Happy Birthday!” She squeals when she bends down to hug him, and he laughs when the cold drops land on his face and pajamas.

They whisper more in the darkness of the room, the reading forgotten and Eddie falls asleep daydreaming about a birthday kiss, and blue eye lit up by the warm glow of the fire.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh, tell me what you think  
> I pretty much live in this universe now
> 
> tumblr: notsugarandspice


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